


take me to the pilot

by seungchxn



Series: rock hard or go home [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dominant Bang Chan, Drugs, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Groupies, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mile High Club, Oral Sex, Rock Stars, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Smoking, Smut, Unsafe Sex, cause they don't use condoms at the end of chapter 2, just a little bit though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 12:04:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19887436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seungchxn/pseuds/seungchxn
Summary: Minho loved rock music and everything that came with it.---Now with aRussiantranslation





	1. Chapter 1

Minho loved rock music and everything that came with it.

He loved the gritty sound of the drums contrasted with the sometimes soothing piano melodies. He loved the way a good performer could make the crowd almost overflow with energy one moment, and in the next have them all holding each other while they swayed to the beat. He loved the ridiculous outfits, the flamboyancy of the performers. He loved  _ everything. _

Minho’s parents were your normal everyday, relatively straight-laced, religious adults and, while they loved him and supported him, they had a plan for what his life would look like. Unfortunately, their's was one that didn’t line up with his own dreams at all. That’s why, three days after graduating high school, he snuck out of his house in the middle of the night, leaving only a note behind. He carried with him a bag containing three changes of clothes, a toothbrush, and roughly $1500 in cash, everything he’d saved up from his part time job the last two years. He didn’t take a key with him, and the door locked when he carefully pulled it shut. This was it. There was no turning back.

It was easy enough to walk to the bus station. The man working the ticket booth seemed bored beyond belief, barely even glancing at Minho when he handed the ticket over. Minho couldn’t fault the man; after all, it was 3 am on a Tuesday night.

As he made his way to one of the few benches at the station, he clutched at his ticket tightly, gripping the paper so hard that he bent it. This was his ticket to the lifestyle he’d always wanted to live: that of a rock ‘n’ roll groupie, following an act around the country, sometimes helping out backstage, maybe even getting to meet his favorite artist, if he was lucky.

God, he hoped he was lucky.

For nearly three years now Minho had been obsessed with rock singer Chris Bang. Chris was one of the hottest acts in music right now - both in terms of popularity and looks. His records practically flew off the shelves, and both men and women alike adored him. Despite him being  _ quite _ open about his sexuality, people still flocked to his shows, selling almost all of them out entirely. Men wanted to be him, and women mourned the fact that they would never sleep with him. This,  _ this, _ was who Minho was going to follow on his American tour.

After an eight hour bus ride, Minho finally made it to the first concert location. Shouldering his bag as he stepped off the bus, he determinedly set out walking to the venue. If he moved fast, he should make it there before sundown. At least, he was pretty sure. His navigational skills weren’t that great, to be honest, but he had step by step instructions written down so he should be fine.

Finally he reached the stadium, quickly locating the back door. There was a bus parked outside, just behind a rope cordoning off the whole area and Minho felt his hopes deflate a little bit. How was he supposed to get in now? His plan had pretty much consisted of getting to the venue and figuring it out from there.

“Hey! Kid!”

At the sound of someone yelling, Minho turned, pointing at himself as to clarify they were talking to him. This prompted an exasperated sigh from one of the two men standing on the other side of the rope. “Yes, I’m talking to you. Why the long face?”

“Oh, well, I, uh-”

The other man laughed. “I bet he ran away from home or some shit to try and become a groupie or something. Now he’s here and it’s not as easy as he thought it would be, right kiddo?”

Minho bristled. “I’m not a kid.”

“Woah, alright, settle down.” The man held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just teasing, relax.”

“ _ Is _ that why you’re here?” asked the first man who’d spoken. Hesitantly, Minho nodded. 

The second man guffawed. “Shit, I told you, Woojin! He wants to be a fucking groupie.”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Woojin said, giving Minho a considering glance up and down. “You know, he does look exactly like Chris’ type.”

Now Jisung seemed to sober up, his face growing serious as he also looked Minho over. “You know, you might be right about that. Say, kid, you okay with getting fucked?”

Minho practically choked on his own saliva.  _ “What?” _

“You heard me. Part of being a groupie for Chris Bang is getting fucked. So we can let you backstage to help out with the show, but you have to know what comes after.”

Minho squared his shoulders. He wasn’t going to let his one chance to follow his dreams slip away just because he was a coward. Besides, he figured, there were worse people to lose your virginity to than a rock star who was practically a walking sex god. “Alright,” he said, voice remarkably steady for how jumpy his nerves were. “Sounds fine by me.”

Jisung gave him a shit eating grin, then reached out and lifted the rope. “Welcome aboard.”

—————

Backstage was chaos, although Minho wasn’t sure he’d expected anything different. Jisung had split off from them almost as soon as they’d stepped through the doors, yelling something about “telling Bang about the fresh meat!” over his shoulder as he went. Woojin had led him to a wall of lockers, giving him one of the empty ones to stash his backpack in. He quickly lost Woojin after that, and his night devolved into him running around to help out anyone who flagged him down for assistance. He figured Woojin and Jisung had spread the word about who he was, because most people referred to him as “newbie,” “groupie,” or “special of the day.” Still, they were all kind to him, and he knew this day could have ended much differently. 

His one regret was that he didn’t get to see the show, but he did catch glimpses of it here and there on the monitors as he rushed around backstage. 

“Don’t worry,” laughed one stagehand named Changbin, a buff man who seemed intimidating until he smiled, when he caught Minho staring longingly at the video feed. “If he likes you, you’ll get to stick around long enough to actually watch a show instead of work it.”

Minho blushed, flustered, and hurried on his way, but Changbin’s words floated through the back of his head for the rest of the night.  _ If.  _ He had one chance to make sure his position here was as permanent as possible and all he had to rely on was his experience masturbating and a few scenes from dirty comics one of his friends back home had managed to smuggle him. It was safe to say that the chances he had of staying here for long enough to see a show were slim to none.

Still, if he ended up going home after tonight, at least he would have the memories. Plus, this would be one hell of a story to tell his friends.

Finally the show drew to a close and Jisung seemed to appear out of nowhere, grabbing his arm and dragging him away. “Come on!” he said impatiently. “You need to be waiting for him to see when he gets offstage, otherwise he might leave without you.”

Finally Jisung screeched to a halt in the middle of a hallway. Minho frowned. This was an odd place to stop. He opened his mouth to ask Jisung what was going on, but right as he did he heard the sound of voices from just around the corner. He snapped his mouth shut mere milliseconds before Chris Bang walked into view.

Chris was with someone that Minho recognized as Felix, Chris’ best friend and creative partner. His attention was heavily focused on his friend, but when Felix stopped walking, he looked forward to see what the problem was, a frown on his face.

Minho’s heart nearly stopped breathing at the sight of him.

Chris frowned, confused, before an easy-going smile slid onto his face. “Jisung! Is this the new lay you promised me?”

Suddenly, all the breath rushed back into Minho’s lungs and he crossed his arms. “I’m not just a lay,” he said, quietly but piercingly. 

Chris considered him, that smile still present on his face. When he spoke again there was an edge to his tone. “Maybe not. You’re certainly the first one to talk back to me.”

_ Fuck. _

Minho had just messed it up, hadn’t he? He’d just ruined any of his chances of even having a story to tell about tonight, all because he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.

He tried not to let his disappointment show on his face as Chris brushed past him. He was fully prepared to go and get his backpack and leave, humiliated, when he heard that delightfully accented voice say, “Well? Aren’t you coming?”

He spun around to find Chris looking at him expectantly. “I - yes!” he blurted, hurrying forward.

Chris laughed, and reached out a hand to slide through Minho’s hair and down his neck, settling in the crook of his shoulder, with his thumb brushing gently over Minho’s adam’s apple. “Eager, aren’t we?” he said teasingly.

Mustering every ounce of charisma in him, Minho shrugged casually. “When I have reason to be.”

Chris laughed again but it was fuller, more hearty, this time. Somehow Minho got the feeling that he didn’t laugh like that often. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises. Come on in, I’ll give you a tour.”

He pushed the door open and gestured for Minho to step through, which he did happily. Chris followed him, shutting the door and locking it with a definitive click. “Would you like anything to drink?” he asked, draping himself over Minho’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his neck. “I’ve got bourbon, scotch, whiskey… Maybe some tequila too, if that’s your thing.”

“I’ve, uh-” Minho cleared his throat, embarrassed. He could feel his cheeks heating up. “I’ve never actually had alcohol before.”

He could see their reflection in the mirror at Chris’ dressing table on the other side of the room, meaning he watched with perfect clarity when Chris frowned. “You’ve never had alcohol? Jesus, how old are you?”

“18.”

“Jesus  _ shit,” _ he swore. “Fucking Jisung… How long have you been 18?”

“Long enough?” Minho offered weakly as the weight of Chris’ body lifted off him and the rockstar crossed the room to a cabinet. He pulled it open, revealing a full display of liquor. He grabbed a bottle, seemingly at random, and poured himself a glass, downing the whole thing almost immediately. 

Slamming the glass down, he turned back to Minho with a sigh. “I’m sorry. Whatever Jisung said to get you back here, I’m sure it’s not worth sleeping with a man 13 years older than you. You can leave-”

“No!” Minho exclaimed, taking a step forward. “No, he didn’t say anything. I wanted to be here. It’s fine.”

Chris stared at him, gaze thoughtful. “You sure?” he asked.

Minho nodded. “Positive.”

“Well,” Chris cracked a smile and poured himself another drink before grabbing a shot glass and filling it as well. “You’ve got balls, kid. I admire that.” He held out the shot glass. “Here. Might as well pop your cherry, right? Drink up.”

Minho grabbed the shot glass, but didn’t take it. “On one condition. Don’t call me kid again.”

Chris laughed. “Yeah, it’s probably better for all parties if I don’t, huh.”

“Probably,” Minho replied with a wry smile, taking the shot and throwing it back. The bitter taste hit his tongue and he winced, trying not to make it show too obviously on his face.

He was clearly unsuccessful, because Chris laughed again. “Not a fan?”

“It could be worse,” was Minho’s response.

“We’ll have to let you try something with a chaser later,” Chris said. He drained his glass again and set it down, making his way over to the couch and draping himself across it. “I have to say, that’s certainly the first time I’ve ever taken one of someone’s firsts.” He patted his lap, gesturing for Minho to come sit down.

Minho hesitated a second, then did as asked, straddling Chris’ thighs and draping his arms around his shoulders to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “What if I told you that’s not the only first you’ll get tonight?”

Chris stared at him incredulously. “Jesus fuck, you don’t mean-”

Minho nodded. “I do.”

“Shit.” One of Chris’ broad, veiny hands came to rest of Minho’s hip, rubbing gently up and down his thigh. “You sure about this?”

“Please,” Minho said, rolling his eyes. All his nerves from earlier had somehow vanished, lost to the heady feeling that came with sitting in the lap of a man he’d dreamed about for years. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have said yes when you offered me a shot of… whatever that was.”

Chris laughed. “It was whiskey, darling.” Minho shivered at the way he said the pet name, his voice low and husky. Chris seemed to catch on, his hands tightening around Minho’s waist. “Do you like that? When I call you darling?”

“It sounds good,” Minho replied, tucking his head into Chris’ neck shyly, “the way you say it.”

Chris snickered. “Cute.” He guided Minho to sit up again, one hand cupping his face, thumb tracing gently over his cheek. “Can I kiss you? Darling?”

Silently, Minho nodded. His heart was practically pounding out of his chest - was this really about to be his first kiss? “Please,” he said quietly, voice barely more audible than a whisper. “I want you to.”

Chris smiled and tilted his head up to connect their lips. Minho felt a brief moment of panic - what was he supposed to do? was it ok to move his lips like this? - but Chris was gentle, guiding him slowly until Minho fell into a rhythm with him.

Chris pulled away and smiled at him. “Good boy.”

_ Good boy. _

The words sent a surge of lust rushing through Minho and suddenly all he wanted was to kiss Chris again. So, that’s what he did, leaning down to capture Chris’ lips in another kiss - one that was considerably hotter this time. Minho just hoped he wasn’t being too sloppy or doing anything that would put Chris off.

His hands, previously wrapped around Chris’ neck, threaded themselves into the rockstar’s shoulder-length curls, tugging slightly when Chris gently coaxed his mouth open and slipped his tongue inside. Minho felt Chris shiver slightly at the sensation so he tugged harder, prompting a quiet moan from the man underneath him.

He did it again, causing Chris to moan louder. Minho could scarcely believe his luck - he’d been dreaming about burying his fingers in Chris’ hair for  _ years _ and, now that he had, it turned out that the object of his desires was just as into it as he was.

He pulled Chris’ hair once more, simultaneously rocking his hips forward. Chris moaned again and tore himself from Minho, dropping his head onto his shoulder. “Shit,” he panted into Minho’s shirt, pressing a kiss to his collarbone through the fabric. “Do that again, darling.”

“What, this?” Minho asked, voice laced with faux-innocence as he ground his hips down, pulling on Chris’ hair again as he did. He had to stifle his own moan as he did so, but Chris’ response was loud enough that Minho doubted he would have been heard regardless.

“Yes,  _ fuck,” _ Chris groaned. He surged forward, dragging Minho into another heated kiss. By the time he pulled back, Minho was a dazed mess.

“Lay down, darling, while I grab something from my dressing table, yeah?”

Minho pouted, but slid off Chris’ lap to stretch out on the couch. He watched Chris practically strut across the room to the dressing table, opening one of the drawers and rummaging for a bit before pulling something out with a triumphant, “ha!”

He turned back to the couch and now Minho could see the items clearly for the first time. His pout grew deeper as he took in the sight of the lube and condom in Chris’ hands. “A condom? Really?” His pout was evident in the whiny tone to his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Chris chuckled. “I don’t like it either, but you’ve heard about that disease going around. I don’t want to risk anything, and I’m sure you don’t either.”

Minho deepened his pout, but they both knew that Chris had won the argument before it had even started. It was even more evident when Chris grinned, climbing on top of Minho and leaning in for another kiss.

Minho’s hands automatically came back up to tangle in Chris’ hair, tugging on it with slightly more force than he had before. This was, apparently, the right thing to do, as Chris then gasped into the kiss, grinding his hips down as he did so. 

Chris suddenly pulled back from Minho’s lips, dropping his head into the crook of his neck and pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to the skin. Minho tilted his head to the side, so as to allow the older more access. One of his hands slid out of Chris’ hair and down to his chest, running over the bare skin appreciatively. 

Chris kissed his way back up Minho’s jawline, pressing another quick kiss to his lips once he reached them. Pulling away, he hovered over Minho, a teasing smirk on his face. “Do you like what you see?”

For the first time all night, Minho took a moment to actually look at Chris. He’d been so caught up trying desperately to impress him that he’d never stopped to really take in the outfit that Chris was wearing. Now that he had, he almost wished he hadn’t.

Chris was wearing a skin tight jumpsuit, with vertical black and white stripes running up it. The shoulders were padded, and the outside of the fabric studded with rhinestones, while the legs were flared and had also been bedazzled. The biggest thing of note, however, was how low the neckline went - not that it could really be called a neckline when Chris’ entire chest was on display.

“Yes,” Minho said, reaching out a tentative hand to rest on Chris’s chest, bare skin on bare skin. “I like it very much.” Trying to end the somber mood that had taken over the atmosphere between them, he looked back up and locked eyes with Chris, a smirk to match Chris’ own adorning his face. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Chris’s entire face softened and he dipped his head down for another kiss. It was slow and gentle, and Minho had a sneaking suspicion that Chris was only being this nice to him because he’d confessed to being a virgin. As sweet as that was, and as special as it made Minho feel, he couldn’t help but worry. He wanted Chris to want him again; would that happen if Chris spent their entire time together holding himself back for fear of hurting Minho?

Even beyond his fears, he found himself slightly disappointed by the fact that he was apparently dealing with an incredibly soft version of Chris. Minho wanted Chris in his authentic form, not one who was holding himself back for Minho’s benefit.

He pulled away to tell this to Chris, to encourage him not to, but before he could say anything eager hands were tugging at his t shirt. With Chris’ help he pulled the shirt up and over his head, leaving him half naked for Chris’ viewing pleasure.

Taking a leaf out of the other man’s book, he laughed as Chris made a point of looking him over. “Do  _ you  _ like what you see?”

Chris’ smirk was back as he leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of Minho’s throat. “What do you think, darling?”

“I’m trying not to think right now, actually,” Minho said, arching his neck to give Chris more space to work with. God, he hoped he had  _ a lot _ of hickeys when this was all over. “But I’m  _ hoping _ you’re enjoying yourself.”

Chris laughed. “I have the prettiest boy in the room underneath me, darling; why wouldn’t I be enjoying myself?”

Minho circled his arms around Chris’ neck and pulled him close. “I’m the only boy in the room,” he murmured against the other’s lips before kissing him, tugging gently on his hair again. Chris moaned into the kiss, and Minho had to suppress a smirk - he couldn’t believe he was lucky enough to sleep with a man with such an obvious kink. He wondered what other kinks Chris had - maybe, if he was lucky, he’d get to find out.

“That implies, darling,” Chris said, leaning back so that he could look Minho in the eyes, one eyebrow cocked, “that I am not also a boy.”

“Well, you could be” Minho replied, using the fingers threaded through Chris’ hair to pull him back down so he could speak against his lips, “But I’m rather hoping that you’re a man.”

“Oh,  _ darling,” _ Chris drawled, the lazy smirk from earlier reappearing on his face. “I’ll show you a  _ man.” _

He dove back in and Minho knew he wasn’t holding back this time - there was such a marked difference between this kiss and their previous ones that it almost felt like he was kissing another man entirely. Minho found himself incapable of meeting Chris equally, instead yielding to the man as he invaded his mouth. It was hot and rough and everything Minho had expected and wanted. He couldn’t be happier, and he made his satisfaction known, moaning loudly, especially when he felt Chris’ hand begin to slide down his chest.

“Tell me, darling, when you touch yourself do you ever play with your nipples?” Chris’ smile was teasing and Minho’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. What did the rock star have in store for him?

“N-no,” he stuttered. “That’s just something for chicks, isn’t it?”

Chris laughed. “Oh, my poor little baby. We’re going to have so much  _ fun.” _ The look in his eyes was predatory and Minho shivered at the sight. In the next second, Chris was kissing down his bare chest, Minho growing more nervous the lower his head sank. Just as one of his hands twisted into Chris’ hair with the intention of pulling him away, Minho felt a jolt of pleasure surge through him.

“Holy -  _ shit _ ,  _ Chris!” _ he cried, back arching up as the older rolled his nipple between his teeth. As Chris’ hand slid up his chest to thumb at his other nipple Minho moaned, loudly.  _ Jesus. _ He’d really thought that only girls were sensitive there, but he’d never been so happy to be proven wrong in his life.

He let out another broken moan, which had Chris lifting his head to smirk at him. “I take it you like it then, yeah?” He laughed at Minho’s frantic nod. “Good. You have such a cute pair, I don’t think I’d be able to resist touching them.”

“Then what are you doing right now?” Minho asked. Any attempt by him to come off as unaffected (as useless as it was after how clearly he had been enjoying things) was ruined by the breathless quality to his voice; he didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on in his life.

“Giving in to temptation, I suppose,” Chris replied, ducking back down to take Minho’s nipple in his mouth again. As Minho whined, his back arching off the couch, he felt Chris’ hand snake down, down, until it rested just above his jeans, so close to where Minho ached for contact, but not close enough.

“Chris,” he gritted out, trying to ignore the way his voice cracked, “Chris, please.”

“Please what, darling?” The look Chris gave Minho made him look like sin personified and Minho was ready to leap straight into hell if that’s what it took. “What do you want?”

“Touch me, touch me,  _ please.” _

Chris frowned, mockingly confused. “But I am touching you, darling. Isn’t this enough?”

Minho shook his head frantically. “No, no, please, touch me - touch my, my -” he broke off, his face flushed, eyes pointedly avoiding Chris.

“Aww,” the rock star cooed with a laugh. “Is baby shy? Well, maybe I’ll take pity on you just this once.” He palmed Minho through his jeans, laughing at the whimper Minho let out as his hips rocked forward into his hand. “Is this what you wanted?”   
  


“Yes,  _ yes,” _ Minho took advantage of the hands he had in Chris’ hair to drag him up for a filthy kiss. As he did so Chris palmed him again, before undoing the button on his pants and sliding his hand in so that the only barrier that remained between the two of them was Minho’s underwear. He keened, pushing his hips up into the pressure as Chris stroked him lightly, up and down. He played with the edges of Minho’s underwear, snapping the waistband against Minho’s skin as best he could with his jeans in the way. Then, suddenly, he slipped his hand inside and curled his fingers around Minho’s dick.

He stroked him once, twice, three times and then Minho’s hips snapped up, his back arching off the couch as he came with a loud cry, his grip on Chris’ hair likely almost turning painful as he did so. He collapsed back down, chest heaving. “Shit,” he muttered weakly. Fuck fuck fuck. He’d just come with barely even a single touch to his actual cock, something he was  _ sure _ Chris wasn’t expecting. What would happen now? Would Chris kick him out?

Instead of growing angry Chris just laughed, an odd mixture of teasing and fondness. “Someone’s sensitive, hm? I barely even touched you.”

Minho’s entire face flushed red as a tomato and he pointedly didn’t look at Chris. “I’m sorry,” he said miserably. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Relax, darling, it’s ok.” Chris pulled his hand out of Minho’s briefs, wiping it on the fabric, before using it to tilt Minho’s head up. “I’m not angry, I promise.”

“You brought me in here for a good time, and I came in my pants like a horny teenager,” Minho said miserably, still not looking Chris in the eyes.

Chris laughed. “Darling, you  _ are _ a horny teenager. Not only that, but you’ve never been touched by anyone else before - I’ve been there, I get it.” He leant down and pressed a kiss to the tip of Minho’s nose. “It’s kind of cute how eager you were, honestly. Definitely a bit of an ego boost too.”

“Still, I’m sorry.” Minho pouted. “You probably want me to go.”

Chris hummed noncommittally. “That depends. If you’re so sensitive, do you think you could go another round?”

At that, Minho’s eyes snapped up to meet Chan’s gaze. He was surprised to find that the rock star look almost soft - there wasn’t even a trace of irritation in his eyes. “I - I don’t know? I’ve never tried, but I - I can, if you want me to?”

“It’s not a matter of what  _ I _ want,” Chris replied. “Oversensitivity can suck if you’re not into it, so if you don’t think you can -”

“I can do it,” Minho interrupted him, determination lacing his every word. Truth be told, he was a little terrified; he’d  _ never _ come more than once at a time. He hadn’t gotten this far by letting his nerves get the best of him, though, and he was certainly not going to back out now. “I want to try. Just - maybe not yet? Give me a few minutes?”

Chris laughed. “Understandable, darling. Is there anything you’d like to do in the meantime?”

Is there something he’d like to do?  _ Is there something he’d like to do? _ Minho had only been fantasizing about this man for nearly three years; of  _ course _ he had things he’d like to do. Still, knowing what he wanted and voicing it out loud were two different things. “Um, well…” he trailed off, biting his lip nervously. “Can - can I suck you off?”

“Of course you can, darling, I’m hardly going to say no to a blowjob.” Chris shifted, sitting up on the couch, taking a moment to unbuckle his platform shoes and pull them off, tossing them towards the other side of the room. “Come on, you get comfortable on your knees while I get this damn jumpsuit off.”

He stood up to begin stripping and Minho froze at the sight. He’d thought that the jumpsuit showed off Chris’ assets well before, but there was a world of difference between when nothing was happening and when he was aroused. Chris looked  _ massive _ and although Minho was relatively sure he would be able to take him in his mouth at least, he took a moment to pray that when they actually got down to things Chris would even fit inside him. 

Chris had the jumpsuit halfway off, and Minho suddenly realized that he hadn’t moved. Quickly he scrambled up, practically launching himself off the couch and onto his knees.

“Woah, slow down,” Chris laughed as he sat back down on the couch, exposed for everyone to see. Even hard, the jumpsuit had concealed his true size - Minho was worried he’d have trouble walking the next morning, if Chris was able to fit inside him at all. “There’s no rush.”

“Sorry,” Minho said, looking away. He just seemed to keep embarrassing himself - he’d felt so confident going into this but all he seemed to have done so far was act a fool.

“Don’t be sorry, darling, you’re allowed to be eager.” Chris reached down and ran a hand through Minho’s hair. Minho tried (unsuccessfully) not to lean into the touch. “Here, I didn’t even think - stand up, yeah?”

Confused, Minho frowned, but did as requested. As soon as he was on his feet, Chris reached for his pants, pulling them and his underwear down his legs. Minho hissed as the fabric dragged along his sensitive length and Chris pressed an apologetic kiss to his hip. Once his pants were off, Minho sank back down onto his knees.

He peered up at Chris, eyes wide. He didn’t really know how to proceed from here. “I don’t, um…” he bit his lip nervously as he trailed off. “I’ve never-”

“Hey, shh, it’s alright.” One of Chris’ hands reached down to cup his face, thumbing gently over his cheekbone. “You said this is your first time, I’m not expecting you to be a master at giving blowjobs.” He grasped his dick with his other hand, stroking himself lightly. “Here,” he said, guiding Minho’s head gently forward. “Just suck a little bit on the head, okay? Start there and you can do more as you get comfortable.”

Minho nodded. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he ducked his head down. Not yet willing to actually take Chris’ dick into his mouth, he hesitantly stuck out his tongue, licking lightly at the tip. He was surprised to find that it didn’t actually taste all that bad; kind of bland, to be honest, but not bad. At Chris’ encouraging hum, he did so again, before closing his lips around the head.

Chris carded his hand through his hair. “Yes, just like that, darling. Just keep going, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Minho took a minute or so to orient himself and try to remember exactly what his friends had all said when they talked about getting blowjobs. Definitely avoiding his teeth, that was something he remembered. Beyond that he couldn’t think of anything though and he could feel his panic building when suddenly he remembered something from one of the comics he’d read.

He’d barely paid attention to the comics when his friends would pass them around, seeing as they were all focused on a woman and a man, but he distinctly remembered one of them. The comic had depicted a woman going down on a man, all the way, until her nose touched his groin. The man had praised her for not having a gag reflex, for being able to take him entirely. Minho’s friends had been especially enraptured but that one, talking about how nice it must feel.

They were just fourteen at the time, but Minho had already known that he would like to be on the giving end of blowjobs as well as receiving. Later, he’d taken a banana and tested his own gag reflex and had been delighted to find that he did not, in fact, have one. Would Chris like that as much as the man in the comic had?

Only one way to find out.

He suckled on the head a little bit longer before pulling back to take a deep breath. Before Chris could say anything - and judging by the puzzled look on his face he wanted to - Minho dove back in and slid down until his nose was pressed against Chris’ skin.

There was a loud groan from the man above him, followed by a string of swears.  _ “Holy fucking shit!”  _ Chris’ voice was strained and when Minho dared to glance upwards, the older man’s chest was heaving, a look of astonishment on his face. The hand that had been gently playing with Minho’s hair was locked in with a vice grip now, and the other was sitting on top of his thigh, clenching erratically.

Saliva pooled in Minho’s mouth and he swallowed, just to see if that would help keep him from drooling. He quickly learned that there were other advantages to his actions, however, as Chris’s head dropped to his chest, eyes closed in bliss as he moaned loudly. Spurred on by his reaction, Minho did it again, and then a third time. Finally, needing to breathe, he pulled off, dropping his head to rest against Chris’ thigh as he tentatively stroked at Chris’ cock.

Chris seemed to be in shock, staring at Minho with an amazed expression on his face. “Where,” his voice broke and he hurriedly cleared his throat. “Where the  _ fuck _ did you learn that, darling?”

“Um, comics?” Minho’s voice was hesitant; did Chris think he’d been lying about being a virgin? Did he think that Minho had slept with someone else before?

Instead of growing angry with Minho for lying about his sexual history, Chris just began to laugh, somewhat hysterically. “Comics? Jesus  _ fuck. _ You mean you’d never tried that before?”

“No, but I knew I don’t have gag reflex and I didn’t really know what else to do…”

Chris laughed again, incredulously. “So you just deepthroated me because you thought you might as well?”

“Huh.” Minho cocked his head curiously. “There’s a name for it?”

“God,” Chris shook his head, the look in his eyes almost fond as he pet Minho’s hair. “What am I going to do with you? You’re definitely one of a kind, kitten.”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Minho had thought that hearing Chris call him ‘darling’ was lovely, but kitten? Holy shit. That by itself was almost enough to make him hard again.

His reaction was more than obvious as he full-body shivered. There was no way Chris missed it, and, in fact Minho saw him open his mouth to say something in response. Whatever he was planning to say, however, was lost as Minho took the initiative and sank back down on his dick once again.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Chris’ grip on Minho’s hair had tightened again. His hips kept twitching as if he was fighting the urge to fuck up into Minho’s mouth. Minho was tempted to let him do it, but no, he’d save that for next time. If there was a next time. 

Minho swallowed around him again, relishing in Chris’ moans. It was, quite literally, the sound of his dreams and he felt himself growing hard again the more noise Chris made. Seeing as his hands weren’t exactly occupied, he reached down to grab his cock, slowly stroking himself. He’d always liked to tease, drag things out, push his body to the limits. How fast he had come earlier had been an anomaly; he hoped that he got a chance to show Chris that in the future. 

At the feeling of his hand on his dick, he moaned around Chris, prompting an answering moan from the older man. Minho moaned again, bobbing his head a little bit, just to see if that got him a reaction. 

“Fuck, is kitten touching himself?” Chris gritted out. “Are you too impatient to wait for me?”

Minho whined, his hand speeding up slightly. Impatient was hardly the word for him - he’d managed to wait years for this opportunity, after all. Still, now that he almost had what he wanted he found himself desperate for things to continue.

“Aw, cute,” Chris snickered, seeing Minho’s obvious eagerness. “Come here, kitten, c’mon.” He pulled Minho off his dick, helping him back up onto the couch, or, more specifically, onto Chris’ lap. “C’mon, kitten, give me a kiss,” he cooed, using the hand resting on Minho’s neck to draw him in. Not that he had to do much - Minho bent down for the kiss very willingly. The kiss started out sweet, but turned hot again very quickly. Minho ground his hips down as Chris’ bucked up and - oh.  _ Oh. _ Skin-on-skin was such a different feeling than when they were grinding against each other while clothed and Minho let out a breathless little whimper at the sensation.

While this was happening, one of Chris’ hands was in Minho’s hair, the other on his hip. Suddenly the one on his hip vanished, but Minho didn’t pay it much mind, so caught up in Chris as he was. He vaguely heard the sound of a cap popping open, and then the next thing he knew there was something wet running lightly over his ass, before dipping down to brush against his hole.

He jumped a little, the feeling startling him. He knew, of course, that Chris would have to touch him there to fuck him - he was inexperienced, not uneducated. Still, it surprised him, and, as he’d never really explored that part of his body on his own, put him a little bit on edge.

“Hey, you all good?” Chris asked, pulling his hand back. “You seem tense; that’s just going to make this more painful in the long run. If you relax, though, it’ll feel better than anything you’ve felt before.”

“Sorry,” Minho apologized. God, he seemed to be doing a lot of that today. “Just wasn’t expecting it.”

Chris stares at him for a moment, studying him, almost as if he was searching for something in particular in Minho’s expression. Suddenly he patted the couch, almost invitingly. “Here,” he said. “Lay down. It’ll make this easier for you.”

“Oh, no, really it’s-”

“Darling,” he interrupted with an exaggerated eye-roll. “It’s  _ fine. _ Lay down.”

Somewhat awkwardly, they shuffled around until Minho was laying on his back, Chris lying between his legs. As Chris’ fingers slid down from his balls to his hole, the singer reached up and tugged Minho into a kiss. Minho fell into it gratefully, doing his best to just relax and let go and fall pliant beneath Chris’ experiences hands. He hissed a little at the first intrusion, but Chris kissed away his pain, thumbing at one of his nipples with his spare hand.

_ God, _ but Chris was a good kisser.

Not that Minho had anything, or, rather,  _ anyone, _ to compare him to, but still. The way Chris moved, guided him - it was obvious that this was a man who was not only good at what he was doing, but knew he was talented as well.

The second finger breached him. This one was definitely more of a stretch, and for the first time Minho felt a flash of the pain Chris had warned him about. He whimpered as the sensation grew rather than died away, but Chris soothed him with his hands and his mouth. His free hand had moved from Minho’s nipples to his dick, stroking him slowly. It was a weird feeling, being caught between such pleasure and such pain, but it gradually began to fade away, morphing into pure pleasure. It was still nowhere near as mind-blowing as Minho had been told it would be, however, and he was a little disappointed.

He pulled away from Chris’ mouth, burying his head in the older’s neck. “Chris,” he panted, hands clutching at his arms. “Chris, I -  _ oh!” _

He felt, more than heard, Chris laugh, and a kiss was pressed to the top of his head. “Found it,” the rockstar murmured. “Does that feel good, kitten?”

_ “Christ, _ Chris,  _ please-” _ Minho’s voice broke off in a whine as Chris brushed past that spot inside him again, lighting all his nerves up as if they were on fire.

From there, it was fairly easy to stretch him further. The third finger wasn’t easy, pain lancing through him as it was worked into him, but Chris soon pushed it away, his talented fingers working to reduce Minho to shambles.

Finally, Minho could take it no more, the dual stimulation on his dick and in his ass working together to drive him over the edge. “Chris,” he gasped. His voice broke and he keened as Chris dipped his head to latch his mouth around one of Minho’s nipples. “Chris, stop, I’m gonna -  _ stop, gonna come!” _

Luckily Chris pulled away just in time, the high Minho had almost reached slipping from his grasp. “See, kitten? I told you I’d make you feel good.” The smile on Chris’ face was smug, a feeling he probably deserved. “Do you think you’re ready for me now?”

Minho nodded, almost frantically. “Yes, Chris,  _ please.” _

“Oh, my pretty little kitten.” Chris leaned down for a kiss and Minho happily reciprocated, his hands winding back into Chris’ hair. When he spoke next there was an edge to his voice, something dangerous that made Minho shiver with delight. “I’m going to make you see  _ stars.” _

He dropped back down, claiming Minho’s mouth once more. Vaguely, Minho was aware of Chris reaching beside himself for the condom, aware of the crinkle of plastic as he opened it.

“This will hurt, kitten,” he said, barely moving away from the kiss so that he was practically speaking into Minho’s mouth. “Tell me if you need me to slow down or stop, okay? Your comfort comes first.”

“I know. Just do it, okay? I trust you.”

Chris pulled back to look down at Minho. “Trust me? You just met me.” There was a strange look on his face, not confused exactly, but Minho couldn’t think of anything else to describe it.

“And since we met you’ve been nothing but caring and considerate, especially since I’m pretty sure you could go find someone who knows what they’re doing right now if you wanted. So yes, I trust you. I thought that was implied when I told you you’d be taking my virginity.” Minho kissed Chris gently. It was probably too sweet of a kiss considering their position, and that they;d known each other for less than an hour. It fit the mood, though, and Chris kissed him back just as softly, so Minho didn’t think he’d fucked everything up.

When they pulled apart, Chris rested their foreheads together, eyes still closed. “Okay,” he said, giving Minho another quick kiss. “Okay.”

Minho thought he was ready. He was stretched, wasn’t he? Sure, Chris was big but the man knew what he was doing, surely he must have stretched Minho enough.

Then he felt the first press of Chris’ dick against his hole and suddenly he pushed in and oh.

_ Oh. _

Minho had thought that three fingers was a lot, but he was clearly wrong. If Chris had  _ seemed _ big earlier, he  _ felt _ even bigger, His entire body seized up, every muscle in him going tense. “Holy shit,” he choked out. “Holy shit, holy shit,  _ Chris.” _

Chris ran a hand soothingly up and down his side. “Shh, shh, I’m sorry, baby. I promise it gets better.”

Minho could only whimper in response. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever felt, but it was in such a foreign place that he didn’t know how to react. It didn’t help that Chris had paused, freezing with his dick just barely inside Minho. There was none of the pleasure that Minho had experienced with Chris’ fingers, only the burn of his muscles as they tried to accommodate the intrusion. 

“Do you want me to keep going or wait until you get used to it?” Chris asked. “Whatever you want, Kitten, just tell me.”

Minho grit his teeth. “Keep going?” Maybe if Chris started to actually do something the pleasure would come back. “Please?”

Chris kissed him. “Of course, darling,” he said. “As you wish.”   
  


The burning pain merely increased as Chris continued to push into him. Minho tried to hold back his cries, muffling them in Chris’ shoulder. Still, there was a steady stream of quiet whimpers filling the air. Finally,  _ finally, _ Chris’ hips met his ass and for a brief moment they both stilled.

Now that he wasn’t as focused on the sensation of steadily being split open, Minho realized that Chris was shaking. “You’re trembling,” he said, voice strained.

Chris’ voice was equally as tense when he replied. “You feel real fucking good, Kitten.”

“Wish I could say the same,” Minho replied through clenched teeth. His jaw almost felt like it was going to lock up from how tight his muscles were - that added to the aching sensation left over from going down on Chris earlier and Minho knew eating tomorrow was going to be a painful challenge.

“Here -” rather than finishing his sentence, Chris reached down and fisted a hand over Minho’s dick.

The stimulation had Minho squirming. It helped, though; he grew so focused on the hand on his dick that he didn’t even notice when the pain in his ass faded.

Chris noticed, however; it was obvious from the way the noises Minho made turned from pained whimpers to pleasured whines.

“Can I move, baby?” Chris asked. His voice almost sounded desperate, but the idea that someone like Christopher Bang would be desperate for someone like Minho was laughable. “Can I?”

Minho nodded. “Please.”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chris drew his hips back until he was barely inside Minho, before sliding back in just as slowly. It felt good, there was no denying, even if Chris hadn’t found that magical little spot inside him just yet. Still, it was too slow for his liking; he wanted more, he wanted it hard and fast, not slow and gentle. Hopefully, Chris would pick up the pace.

He didn’t.

Instead he just kept up the same maddeningly slow pace. It was horrible; if he had to deal with much more of it, Miho was going to go insane.

“Chris,” he whined, pout evident in his voice. “Chris, please. I want more.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, kitten. It’s your first time, I don’t want to be too rough.”

Oh my god. He was really holding himself back for Minho? He’d suspected as much all night, but to have it confirmed… Regardless, it wasn’t what he wanted, as sweet as the gesture was.

“Chris,” he said, voice surprisingly steady and firm considering his dream dick was currently in his ass. “That’s very nice of you, but if I wanted my first time to be slow and sweet, I’d have stayed at home with my parents and married a girl from church like they wanted.” His eyes were pleading as he stared at the man above him. “So please? Fuck me?”

For a moment, time seemed to stop as Chris froze, simply staring down at Minho. His gaze was impossible to read, try as Minho might. Then, as if the clouds had parted for the sun, his whole face brightened and he laughed. “Oh, kitten. What am I going to do with you?”

Without even thinking, Minho replied, “Keep me?”

“Hm.” Chris gaze was drawn close once more, although this time it was less unreadable and more pensive. He bent down to kiss Minho’s forehead. “I just might have to.”

Before Minho even had time to process his words, Chris snapped his hips back and then drove them in again - hard. Minho moaned, loudly, his hands scrabbling for a better grip on Chris’ shoulders. “Fuck!” he cried as Chris pounded into him. His eyes were closed as he focused on the sensations flooding his body, the feeling of skin beneath his fingertips. Then, suddenly, hands were on his hips, pulling them up, adjusting the angle at which Chris fucked into him, and the next thrust in brushed past that spot inside him and Minho’s back arched off the couch as he practically  _ screamed. _

His hands abandoned their place on Chris’ shoulders, digging instead into his back as he did his best to cling onto the older man. Minho was almost positive that he was leaving scratches all over his favorite rockstar’s back, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“You like that, kitten?” Chris practically growled into his ear.

Minho nodded frantically. “Yes, Chris, feels so good!”

There was a teasing bite at his shoulder, followed by a low huff of laughter. “Good.”

In the next instant there was a hand on his dick and Minho nearly screamed once again as Chris began to jerk him off in time with his thrusts. Minho’s legs were wrapped around his waist and it was all he could do to hold on as Chris pounded into him again and again. It was all too much, especially when Chris dipped his head, taking one of Minho’s nipples into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth. Minho wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, especially considering he was already sensitive from his first orgasm.

Soon enough he was on the brink again, approaching the high that had been taken from him earlier. “Chris, I’m gonna - gonna come!” he stuttered, head thrown back. “Chris, I’m, I -  _ Chris!” _ With one final shout of the rockstar’s name his entire body went taut, back arching off the couch, as he came all over his stomach.

Chris groaned, releasing his nipple as he worked Minho’s dick until there was nothing left. His hips kept up their frantic pace, and the new level of sensitivity made Minho whine, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Chris to pull out. Instead he just grabbed at Chris’ hair with one hand and  _ tugged _ . That was all it took, it seemed, as in the next second, with one final snap of his hips into Minho, Chris was coming with a low moan, his entire body twitching as he did so. When he was finished he practically collapsed on top of Minho, blanketing him. He didn’t stay there long, however, rolling them onto their sides in the next moment so that Minho wasn’t taking his full weight. 

“Jesus, shit,” he said, chuckling quietly. “You’re something else, kid.”

Despite his own oversensitivity, Minho clenched down on Chris’ dick, relishing in the way the older man hissed at the feeling. “I thought I told you not to call me kid,” he replied, smirking.

Chris laughed, loudly, and tugged Minho into a kiss. When they broke apart he smiled at him, before pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. “So, did you like your first time?”

Minho shrugged, that teasing smirk still firmly in place. “I don’t know, the whiskey left a lot to be desired.”

“What…?” It took a moment for Minho’s joke to register with Chris, but when it did his whole face lit up and he buried his head in the crook of Minho’s shoulder to muffle his laughter. His whole body shook with it, however, and Minho found himself smiling fondly.

He kissed the top of Chris’ head, running his fingers gently through his hair. “It was perfect. Thank you.”

They lay like that for a while longer, just quietly basking in each other’s presence. Privately, Minho thought this felt too much like what being in an actual relationship would feel like, but he was enjoying it too much to say anything. He still didn’t know if he’d get this chance again, although he was hopeful. Finally, though, their peaceful little bubble had to break as Chris slid out of him and climbed off the couch. 

As he watched the rockstar go about cleaning up, throwing away the condom and gathering up his stage costume, Minho reached for the side table and grabbed some tissues, wiping at his stomach. When he was as clean as he was going to get without a shower, he sat up and went about picking up his own clothes. When he was dressed again, he stood, his legs wobbly. He had a feeling walking was going to be difficult, and hoped that Jisung and Woojin were still around to give him good directions as to a place close by where he could spend the night.

Chris had procured a pair of jeans and sleeveless shirt from somewhere, and now sat lounging in the chair in front of his vanity table, watching Minho thoughtfully. Privately, Minho thought he looked good enough to convince him to try for orgasm number three, but outwardly, he just smiled. “Thank you. That was lovely. I’ll, um… I’ll just go find Jisung, shall I?”

“Why?” Chris frowned, looking like a confused puppy. It was by far one of the cutest things Minho had ever seen.

“Well, I still need to get my stuff, and I imagine he’ll know where I can spend the night…” MInho bit his lip as Chris’ expression darkened. “That is if you want me to stick around.”

Chris scoffed, pushing himself to his feet and stalking forward. “Darling, did you miss the part where I said I might have to keep you? I know my dick is good, but surely it didn’t make you lose your memory.”

“Oh, um…” Minho shuffled his feet nervously, fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly. “I just thought it was something you said in the heat of it all, I didn’t know you were actually  _ serious.” _

Chris cupped his face in his hands, forcing Minho to make eye contact with him. “Rule number one of traveling with me, darling. I’m  _ always _ serious.”

“Oh.” Minho felt his face grow heated as he fought to keep a wide smile from showing. “Okay then.”

“Good.” Chris’ expression melted into something soft and happy. “You’ll be coming back to my hotel with me. There’s just one thing I need to know, however, before you do.”

“What?”

“Tell me your name.”

Minho giggled. He hadn’t even realized that he hadn’t told Chris his name; he’d just been so eager for everything that had happened that he must have forgotten. “My name is Minho.”   
  


“Well, Minho.” Chris smiled and pulled him closer, their lips inches apart. “Thanks for coming to the show.”

“Believe me,” Minho replied, before closing the distance between them. “The pleasure was all mine.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Everytime one of these phone calls happened, Minho was reminded why he didn’t ever feel homesick or miss his parents.

“Mother, for the _last time,”_ he said, voice strained as he resisted the urge to yell. He didn’t want to wake Chris, who was sleeping peacefully in the room next door. “I am _not_ coming home. I am _perfectly_ happy with the way I’m living right now, and I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t try to change my mind on this again.”

Her voice crackled through the phone, grating at his ears. “Really, Minho,” she said, and he suppressed a sigh because he knew exactly what would come next. “What else am I supposed to do? _Someone_ has to try and convince you to get off this stupid, self destructive path you’ve put yourself on. Maybe if I drill it into you enough you’ll stop being so rebellious and disobedient and come home.”

“Why, so you can marry me off to some girl from down the road?” Minho’s voice was scornful. “Mother, even if I were to come home, _I’m gay._ I’m not going to follow your plan for my life anymore.”

“So what, you’re just going to keep running around with this _rockstar?”_ The sneer in her voice when she said ‘rockstar’ made Minho wince. “Is that your life now? Being that man’s lapdog? His _toy?”_ He voice was full of venom. “He’s going to get tired of you, Minho. He’s going to leave you behind and when he does you won’t be able to do anything other than come crawling back home.”

“Never,” Minho spat. “I will _never_ come back to your life.” Before she could speak again, he slammed the phone down.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, hanging his head. Conversations with his mother always made him angry; he regretted ever promising to always give her his number wherever he was staying.

Was it really so hard for her to be happy for him? For that past two and a half months he’d been living a better life than he ever would have lived with his parents; more than that, he had made it very clear that he was happy where he was. 

Before he could fall any further into the funk that normally came over him after one of these phone calls, he heard the bedroom door of their suite creak open behind him. “Kitten?”

He smiled, although he didn’t turn around. “Chris.”

There was the sound of stumbling, shuffling footsteps, and then the settee he was sitting on shifted behind him as a very heavy, very naked weight draped over his back. Chris buried his face in Minho’s neck. “Cold,” he mumbled.

Minho giggled, Chris’ hair tickling the nape of his neck. “What do you mean?”

“It’s too cold without someone else in bed.” Chris’ words were slurred, and he was definitely still half asleep, even if it was 11:00 in the morning. “Need someone else in bed; come back?”

Minho’s heart gave a funny little jolt. He loved hearing Chris ask him to go back to bed, but the implication that he was just “someone” made him sound replaceable, an idea which, even almost three months after that first night in Chris’ dressing room, made him go almost numb with panic.

Still, the last thing he wanted was for Chris to find out about how he felt, so he simply giggled again and stood up, Chris clinging to his robe as he did so. “Come on, silly,” he cooed, turning to wrap his arms around Chris’ waist. “Let’s go back to bed, yeah? You don’t have to be anywhere until tomorrow night; let’s just sleep the day away.”

Chris tried to waggle his eyebrows, but he was so tired that it looked more soft than suggestive. “I can think of other things to do besides sleep.”

Minho laughed, already guiding him back towards the bedroom. “I’m sure you can, dear. I’d expect nothing less from you.”

“That’s right,” Chris said triumphantly, even as he let Minho push him onto the bed and tuck him under the covers. “Cause I’m Chris Bang _Bang!”_

Minho couldn’t help it; he burst into giggles. He seemed to spend most of his time since meeting Chris like this: laughing, happy. “You’re ridiculous is what you are,” he said, soft and fond. “Go to sleep.”

“Mhm.” Chris closed his eyes and snuggled into the sheets. “Be here when I wake up?”

WIth a sad smile, Minho ran a gentle hand through Chris’ hair. “Of course, darling. I won’t ever leave.”

\----------

Minho hadn’t lied to his mother; his life was really so much better with Chris than it ever had been with his parents. Chris doted on him, gave him anything his heart could possibly desire, and Minho wasn’t about to complain about being a sugar baby.

Because that’s what he was really. Chris bought him too many things, gave him too much money for him to be anything else. 

There were some pros and cons to it. Pro: he knew for a fact that he was the only one Chris slept with anymore. He couldn’t deny the thrill that sent running through him. The idea that, at least for right now, Chris was his and his alone was exhilarating.

It went two ways, though. Chris was his and he was Chris’ - and the rockstar had no shame when it came to reminding him of that. Minho rarely ever had clear, unmarked skin anymore, not when Chris seemed to be obsessed with the sight of him covered in hickeys, ones he’d happily spend hours making. Minho pretended to complain, but he secretly loved it, loved the reminder that, even if this would all come to an end someday, for right now Chris had laid a claim on him.

However, no matter how good things were, the one con of this situation always loomed over him: this new life of his was only temporary and one day he’d never see Chris again.

He tried not to think about it.

\----------

“Minnie!”

That was the only warning Minho got before there was suddenly someone dropping into his lap. It spoke to how used to this he was that he barely reacted, just circled his arms around his friend’s waist to secure him there.

“Hey, Hyunjinnie,” he said, leaning up to press a kiss to Hyunjin’s cheek. “How are you today?”

Hyunjin giggled and snuggled into his side. “I’m good. Do you know what today is?”

“No, I don’t. What’s today?”

“It’s your three months with us!”

Oh. Was it really?

Hyunjin giggled again. “Yes, silly! Tell me, has Chris made any plans for after the show? This is the longest anyone has stayed with him; he’d better be willing to spoil your ass tonight.”

Huh. Now that Minho thought about it, Chris had been very adamant that once the show tonight finished they’d be going out for dinner. Usually after a show they either disappeared into Chris’ dressing room or went back to the hotel and fucked until the adrenaline from the concert had worn off. It _was_ odd that he’d made dinner plans.

“I think so?” he said. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but we’re going to dinner tonight. He said there’s some sushi restaurant or something that I need to visit before I die.”

Hyunjin bounced happily. “Ooh, I know that place! We were here right after I arrived; Seungminnie took me there for our first date.”

Hyunjin had been like Minho, 18 years old, originally coming to join the act as a groupie for Chris. One look at Chris’ bassist, however, and he’d immediately switched, turning all of his attention to Seungmin. Seungmin had been more than reciprocal and the two had been practically attached at the hip ever since.

Hyunjin was a godsend; he’d helped Minho adjust to this life at the very beginning when Minho was more lost than anything. They weren’t the only groupies who traveled with Chris and his entourage, but they were by far the only ones who had any permanence. Minho couldn’t count the amount of people that had come and gone since he’d gotten here. As such, they’d grown close. Minho could safely say that Hyunjin was his best friend.

“Kitten?”

Minho smiled up at Chris as he came to a halt in front of them. “Hey, Chris. Soundcheck over?”

He nodded and reached out to run a hand through Minho’s hair. Minho tried not to lean into his touch - at least not too obviously. “You want to come with me for a minute, baby?”

Minho hummed and unlooped his arms from Hyunjin’s waist. Hyunjin popped up, then pulled Minho up behind him. “Chris, do you know where Seungmin went?”

Chris shrugged. “Beats me. Maybe try the band’s dressing room?”

“Great!” In a flash Hyunjin was gone. Minho watched him go fondly, then turned his attention back to Chris, who held out his hand.

As Minho linked their hands together, he said, “So what did you need me for?” The question was unnecessary of course; they both knew what this was about. 

Instead of answering, however, Chris tugged on his hand and began to pull him along, out of the staff break room and down the hall. “Tell you in a minute, kitten.”

Minho followed Chris with bemusement on his face. It was easy enough to tell where they were going; they’d only been here for a few days, but Minho was already familiar with what Chris’ dressing room looked like. 

Chris pulled him into the room and shut the door, pushing Minho up against it as soon as it was closed. “Hey, kitten,” he said, a smug smirk on his face.

Minho raised an eyebrow as he looped his arms around Chris’ neck. “Hey yourself. Any particular reason I’m pinned to the door right now?”

“Oh baby.” Chris’ smirk only grew, a wicked smile that, combined with the look in his eyes, made Minho shiver, caught up in the intensity of it all. “Can’t you guess?”

Even as Minho sighed and shook his head, he was pulling Chris closer. “I don’t know what I expected,” he said, poking fun at the rock star. “Of course an older man like you only wants me for my body.”

Chris teased him right back. “Well, when someone looks as nice as you do, darling… How is a man like me supposed to resist?”

Minho didn’t get a chance to respond before he was being kissed, hard and rough. He melted into Chris, happily yielding any control to him. As Chris tugged him further into the room, pushing him down on the couch and climbing on top of him, he sighed happily and shivered as a calloused hand worked its way under his shirt.

The shirt was tugged up over his head and Chris bent down to press a kiss to his chest. “Beautiful,” he breathed, mouth against Minho’s skin, and Minho couldn’t help but shiver again. 

“Chris,” he said breathlessly. “Chris, please.”

Chris smirked up at him and pressed a kiss to his navel. “Whatever you want, kitten. Whatever you want.”

\----------

That’s the thing, really. Chris promised that Minho could have whatever he wanted, but that only extended to material goods, reciprocated emotions. Minho did his best not to dwell on that; it would only make him sad, and he wanted to enjoy as much of his time with Chris as possible.

And it’s not like it wasn’t nice to be spoiled and pampered. On the contrary, it was lovely. 

Chris liked to take entire free days in his schedule and devote them to Minho. Sometimes this meant that they didn’t leave the hotel room. Other times, Chris would take Minho sightseeing or shopping. Chris loved to go shopping for himself, often spending large sums of money on ridiculously expensive and elaborate jackets and shirts. 

However, what he _really_ loved was shopping for Minho.

It wasn’t even really shopping. It was the two of them walking into some high end store, Chris settling on the couch near the fitting rooms, and telling the attendant to bring one of everything that they had in Minho’s size for him to try on. If Minho even slightly indicated that he liked an item, it ended up in his closet later that night. He’d had to buy three new suitcases since meeting Chris. It was, quite honestly, ridiculous.

There were practical reasons behind why Minho didn’t fight Chris on this matter, though. He knew that when he eventually got left behind he could sell some of his clothing items for a good amount of money. Considering he wasn’t ever planning to go back to his parents, he would need as much of a source of income as he could get.

Clothes weren’t the only thing he stockpiled for the future, however. Some days, Chris was just too busy to go see whatever city they were in with Minho. When that happened, the rockstar would give him a large chunk of cash, usually no less than $1000, and tell him to go splurge on himself. Minho would buy just enough things that Chris wouldn’t find anything suspicious, but he always put away at least half of the cash into the savings account he’d set up as soon as it became clear that Chris was going to consistently throw money at him. So far, he had nearly $6000 saved.

So yes, being spoiled and pampered and given whatever he wanted that money could buy was lovely. He just wished that there wasn’t an end date, one that approached more rapidly each and every day.

\----------

Roughly a month after the phone call with his mother (which had been the last time she’d tried to contact him) was the final concert in the American leg of tour. Just one more performance, and then, bright and early the next morning, Chris and his entire entourage would be boarding a private jet to Japan. 

Most of the other groupies had already left; Minho and Hyunjin were the only ones who had stayed behind. Even then, tomorrow Hyunjin would be on his own. 

Minho declined to watch the show that night, choosing to stay in Chris’ dressing room instead. He heard the show through the speakers, heard Chris play to the audience, heard how fucking _happy_ he sounded to be on stage. He tried not to think about how, by this time tomorrow, Minho would never get to hear Chris be that happy again.

Yes, never. He was never going to be able to come see Chris in concert after this. It would hurt too much, to be so close to the man he loved, and to just be another face in the crowd. Sometimes he thought that it hurt too much right now when he was someone important; sometimes he thought that he should never have come here to begin with.

His bags were all packed back at the hotel, and he knew that he could walk out now, get his bags, and disappear into the night, never to be seen again. It would be so easy. But he couldn’t do that. He wanted too badly to cling to this happiness, even if it wasn’t permanent, and so he was going to stay and have one more night to be Chris’ before he left it all behind.

After the show, Chris came sauntering back into the dressing room, slamming the door behind him and swooping down on Minho, pulling him into a heated kiss. “Hey, baby,” he murmured against his lips. “Was it a good show tonight?”

Minho laughed. “You always put on a good show, Chris.”

“That I do, darling.” Chris’s smile was wide and he was practically vibrating with energy, the way he always did after a good performance. Minho had gotten pretty good at reading Chris’ energy levels since he had first arrived and he knew that today Chris was in the mood for a quick, rough, post-concert fuck on the couch in the dressing room. Minho couldn’t bring himself to do that though, so when Chris started dragging him towards the couch he planted his feet and held his ground.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” he said firmly. “I’m not in the mood for the couch tonight.”

“Kitten, can’t we just -”

“I want a bed, Chris.” His voice broke a little as he spoke and he schooled his expression as best he could so as not to give anything away. “Please.”

Chris stared at him for a moment, his gaze intense, searching. Finally he sighed and shook his head. “The way I’m whipped for you, kitten,” he said fondly, reaching out to run his fingers through Minho’s hair. “My pretty kitten.”

Minho felt his heart break. After tonight, he wouldn’t be Chris’ pretty kitten ever again.

\----------

They got back to the hotel and as soon as the door shut behind them Minho was practically attacked. Chris was vicious, claiming his lips with no small amount of pleasure, and, as always, Minho melted into him. 

Somehow, they made their way through the suite to the bedroom. Before he even realized what was happening, Minho was being picked up and thrown on the bed. The resulting bounce when he landed was enough to knock him out of the haze he always slipped into when making out with Chris. 

Chris crawled on top of him, a hungry look in his eyes as he bent to capture Minho’s lips again, but a hand on his chest stopped him. “Chris,” Minho said, voice soft, but firm. He knew what he wanted right now, and a hard and fast fuck wasn’t it. “Can we go slow tonight?”

“What?”

Minho looked up and locked eyes with him. “Please. Just for tonight. Can you be gentle?”

“Why? Is everything alright?”

“Of course.” Minho tried not to let his sadness shine through his eyes when he smiled reassuringly at Chris. He wanted to scream, wanted to cry, but instead he just grinned up at the man he loved and tried not to think about how this was the last time he would ever feel Chris’ skin against his. “Just not in the mood for a rough fuck tonight.”

Chris stared at him for a moment, long and hard, then dipped his head for a sweet kiss. “Anything for you, darling,” he murmured.

He shifted to reach for the bedside table, for the lube and condoms they kept there, but was stopped by Minho grabbing his hand. He sighed, exasperation and annoyance evident in his voice. “What now?”

“Can we not use a condom?”

That got Chris’ attention, his eyes snapping to Minho’s face, searching it questioningly. “Really?” he asked.

Minho nodded. “Last time you got tested was a week or so ago, right? And you said you were clean… And we know I am.” He dropped his gaze, face flushed with embarrassment. “And I want to feel you.”  
  


Chris gently tilted his chin upwards so that they could make eye contact again. “Are you sure?”  
  


When Minho nodded this time, it was more assured, more self-confident. “I am,” he replied. “I want to feel you. For however long we stay like this, I want to feel you each and every time.”

The smile Chris gave him was beautiful. “Anything for you, darling,” he said again. 

True to his words, Chris was achingly sweet that night. He touched Minho tenderly, used gentle hands to make him fall apart. It was like nothing Minho had ever felt before and, for just a little while, he was able to delude himself that he was loved just as much as he loved in return.

He came with a hoarse cry of Chris’ name and tears in his eyes, ones he passed off as a result of just feeling good. Chris cleaned them up and then fell back into bed, his arms wrapped securely around Minho’s waist. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Minho’s neck. “Sleep well, kitten,” he said. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Minho said, before Chris could fall asleep. “Can you just… Can you say my name? Please?”

He could hear the frown in Chris’ voice. “Your name? Sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Minho said, desperately praying his voice wouldn’t break. “I just want to hear you say my name.”

Everything was silent for a moment, and Minho was convinced that Chris would refuse. He almost _never_ used Minho’s name, after all, preferring kitten or darling or baby instead. Then, softly, so softly he almost missed it, Chris breathed, “Minho.”

Minho closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Chris. Sleep well.”

\----------

It didn’t take long for Chris to fall asleep and once he was sure that he wouldn’t wake the rockstar up, Minho gently extracted himself from Chris’ embrace, putting a pillow in his place when Chris whined. His heart broke a little bit further as he watched Chris contently cuddle into a pillow. Looks like he really was replaceable after all.

His bags were already packed; they’d only been here for two days so he hadn’t really had time to unpack them to begin with. Quickly he dressed and grabbed any of his things that were lying around the room; toothbrush, toothpaste, other toiletries. By the time he was done he had two fully packed bags, plus the backpack he’d arrived with all those months ago. There was only one thing left to do before he walked out the door.

He’d written a letter earlier that day, when Chris was in the shower. It was simple; it explained his reasons for leaving, that he was aware he wouldn’t be traveling anywhere with them beyond this, and that he didn’t want to get in the way the next morning while Chris was trying to catch an early flight. It thanked Chris for everything he’d done, and promised that Minho would always treasure their time together. At the end of it all, Minho had simply signed it _Love, Your Kitten._ There was a small part of him that hoped Chris would keep the letter as a memento of their time together, something to remember him by. The rest of him, however, was quick to remind himself that the odds of that happening were highly unlikely.

After resting it on the table next to where Chris had left his room key, he stopped to take one last look at the room, to send one last longing glance towards where his former lover slept, then grabbed his bags. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a sleepy, “Kitten? What’re you doing?”

His heart seized in his chest. “Chris.” Putting on his best smile, he turned around to see Chris standing, completely naked, in the doorway to the bedroom. “Go back to sleep, Chris,” he said quietly. “Everything is alright.”

Rather than listening to him, however, Minho watched as Chris’ eyes shifted focus to the suitcases in his hands. Suddenly much more awake, he looked up at Minho again, eyes widening as he took in his street clothes. Then, his eyes zeroed in on the letter, sitting propped up on the table next to Minho. He slowly walked forward and grabbed it, eyes never leaving Minho, as if afraid he would disappear. In a last ditch effort to protect his dignity, Minho tried to take the letter from him, but Chris merely snatched his hand away, taking a step back, out of Minho’s reach.

“Chris, please, just let me - you can read that later, just go back to bed -”

“Hush, kitten,” he snapped, turning his back on him and opening the letter. As he read it Minho watched him grow more and more tense, his shoulders tight. He could practically see the anger building in Chris and he could only stand there and wait nervously for what might be an explosion. 

When Chris finished reading the letter he took a deep breath before crumbling it into a ball and throwing it to the ground. His eyes were clenched shut, his hands balled into fists, and Minho could only frown at him. He didn’t understand why Chris was so upset; surely he wouldn’t get this angry about not getting the chance to say goodbye.

“Kitten,” he said lowly. “Are you leaving me?”

Minho swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly incredibly dry. “Yes?”

Chris laughed, but there was no humor behind it. His jaw tensed and Minho had to resist the urge to take a step backwards. “And why on earth are you doing that?”

“Well,” Minho’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before trying again. “Well, I figured I’d be leaving tomorrow, yeah? I thought I’d get out of your way now so I wasn’t a distraction in the morning when you were trying to catch your flight.”

Chris took a deep breath. _“Our.”_

“What?”  
  


At that Chris whirled around, stalking forward. Minho backed up as much as he could, but there wasn’t very far for him to go before his back slammed into the door.

Chris loomed over him, large and imposing, and Minho felt his knees grow weak. “I said, _our,”_ Chris growled. “Because we will both be getting on that flight to Japan, you understand?”   
  


Minho’s eyes went wide, something that only seemed to serve to make Chris angrier. “But,” he sputtered. “I - I don’t have a passport.”

“Woojin took care of it,” came the response. “What?” Chris laughed, an odd mixture of incredulous and cruel, as Minho’s eyes somehow became wider. “Did you think you weren’t coming with me?”

“I - yes, I uh -” Anything that Minho was going to say was immediately lost as Chris swooped in to give him a bruising kiss. Minho could only moan as he was swept away under the pressure of it. He whimpered as he felt teeth biting hard into his bottom lip.

When Chris pulled away, Minho could only stare at him in shock as he practically snarled, “Get back in bed, kitten. You’re not going _anywhere.”_

\----------

Minho didn’t get much sleep that night. Chris didn’t either. He’d practically manhandled Minho out of his clothes and into bed, wrapping his arms around him tightly, as if scared he’d run away again.

As if Minho could run now.

When morning came, their wake up call rang through the room. Chris picked it up within the first ring, unlatching his arms from around Minho’s waist. Minho watched him as he flopped back down onto the bed, laying on his back. After a moment he turned his head to look at Minho.

He bit his lip nervously. “Chris -”

“Later,” he interrupted, voice hoarse. “We’ll talk about everything once we’re on the plane.” Minho nodded, happy to prolong this discussion for as long as possible. When he stilled, Chris reached over and gently pulled his bottom lip from between his teeth. “Don’t bite your lip, darling. You’ll start bleeding.” 

His voice was soft and, for the first time since meeting Chris all those months ago, Minho allowed himself to hope.

All of Minho’s things were already packed so, in order to pass the time so he wasn’t waiting around nervously, he packed Chris’ things.

The ride to the airport was silent, both of them sitting on opposite sides of the car and staring out the windows, pointedly not looking at each other. About halfway there, Chris reached out and took Minho’s hand, intertwining their fingers, but that was the extent of their interaction.

Finally they got to the airport. The car drove through a gate and pulled up near their plane. They were clearly not the first ones here; there were bags being loaded onto the plane already.

Chris didn’t let go of Minho’s hand and so Minho had to slide across the car to get out on the opposite side. He went to move to the trunk and grab his back, but Chris’ grip on his hand was firm and he found himself being dragged towards the plane.

It looked like they were the last ones to arrive, although Minho didn’t get much of a good look at the other occupants of the plane. He barely had time to wave at Hyunjin, seated happily in Seungmin’s lap, before Chris was plowing through everyone, pulling him along to the back of the plane.

Chris slammed his way into the bedroom, finally letting go of Minho’s arm as he stalked over to the glass cabinet displaying several bottles of alcohol. As Minho shut the door Chris harshly pulled open the cabinet, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a double shot. He downed it all in one go and Minho was hit with how similar this was. It felt like that first night, all those months ago, when he’d stood nervously by the door as Chris drained a glass of whiskey.

The glass was set down hard, although not hard enough to damage it and Minho ducked his chin as Chris turned to look at him. “Kitten,” he said lowly. “Kitten, can you please look at me.” When Minho didn’t raise his head, Chris sighed and walked over to him. With a finger under his chin, Chris tilted his head up until they made eye contact. His gaze was cold and serious when he said, “We need to talk about last night, kitten.”

“What -” Minho’s voice cracked and he felt his face grow flushed. He tried again. “What is there to talk about?”  
  


Chris laugh, slightly bitterly. “Well, we’re _clearly_ not on the same page, darling, so I’d say there’s a _lot_ to talk about actually.”

“What page _are_ you on?” Minho said, a note of challenge in his voice. 

“I said I’d be keeping you, didn’t I? That means that you’re _mine._ I thought you understood that.” 

“I did!” Minho clarified quickly. “I just didn’t think that extended beyond the American tour.” He bit his lip and continued, a little bit miserably, “You can find a dozen people to sleep with you with just a snap of your fingers. What makes me special enough to stick with you for any longer than I already have?”

“Oh my darling,” Chris said, his eyes softening. He pulled Minho into a hug, holding him tightly. As Minho wrapped his arms around Chris in return the rockstar continued, “You’re right; I could _easily_ find someone else to share my bed. I don’t want anyone else, though.”

Minho’s heart stopped. “Chris…”

Chris pulled away just enough to cradle Minho’s face in his hands, smoothing one thumb gently over Minho’s cheek. “I want you.” His voice was soft and tender and Minho’s heart _ached._ “I want _you,_ Minho, okay? Just you.”

Minho couldn’t help it; he burst into tears, his hands clutching tightly at Chris’ shirt. “Oh, no, hey, baby,” Chris murmured, guiding them to the bed. “Come here, come here, darling.”

He pulled Minho down onto his lap and Minho buried his head in Chris’ shoulder as he straddled him. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry, I just -”

“It’s okay, Minho,” Chris said, cutting him off. His voice was choked up and when Minho raised his head to look at Chris he was _also_ crying, albeit not as hard as Minho was. He smiled at Minho. “Never, _never,_ apologize for being honest about your emotions with me. Okay? Promise?”   
  


Minho nodded and wiped at his eyes. “Promise,” he said, reaching for Chris’ hand and lacing their fingers together. 

Chris smiled. “Are you feeling any better, kitten?”

“Yeah.” Minho smiled bashfully down at their intertwined fingers. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“It’s okay, darling. So long as you know that you’re _my_ mess.”

Minho let out a strangled sound and buried his head back in Chris’ shoulder. “You can’t just _say_ stuff like that,” he whined. “My poor heart has been through the ringer in the past couple of hours; I don’t think it can take any more.”

Chris laughed as his hands come up to wrap around Minho’s back, holding him close. For a while, they just sat there. It was the most at ease and content Minho had been in a long time. 

Finally, although hesitant to break the silence, he said quietly, “Chris?”

“Yes, baby?”

“What does this mean for us?”

“Well…” Chris chuckled, more out of nerves than anything else. “For a start… It means you can call me Chan.”

Minho stiffened. “What?” 

Everyone knew that Christopher wasn’t the rockstar's only name. His birth name was Chan, but no one called him that. He _hated_ to be called Chan, to the point of walking out of interviews in the past just because a journalist made a joke about it.

“I said, you can call me -”

“I know, just - I thought you -”

“I don’t hate my name, like people say. I just don’t like for everyone to use it.” Chris’ voice seemed far away as he spoke, seemingly lost in nostalgia. “I didn’t grow up using it very much outside the house; it was really just something for close family to call me.”

“But I’m not -”

“It’s only a name for people I… care about,” Chris said, his voice so soft it was nearly a whisper. “That includes you.”

Minho’s heart stopped. Chris hadn’t said it, hadn’t said _that_ word, but Minho knew what he meant. Neither of them were ready to hear it, or to say it out loud, but that didn’t matter. They could still express themselves subtly, quietly, through a shared name or a soft caress.

Pulling away he beamed at Chris, running his hand gently through his hair to move his bangs out of his eyes. “I care about you too,” he said. “Chan.”

Chris’ answering smile was blinding.

\----------

They were both exhausted and it didn’t take long before they fell asleep, curled around each other on the bed. The plane hadn’t even taken off yet, to Minho’s knowledge. 

When he woke up, the other side of the bed was cold and empty, clearing having not been occupied for a while. Instantly, his mind shot into panic mode. Where was Chris? If he’d left after their conversation had he actually meant any of it? Rationally, MInho knew that he wasn’t making sense, but his brain couldn’t help but spin out of control at a hundred miles-per-hour.

Before it could get truly bad, the door opened, Chris sauntering in with a glass of something (probably alcoholic) in his hand. He was smiling, but it dropped from his face as soon as he saw Minho. Putting the glass down on the dresser, he rushed forward. “Baby,” he said frantically, taking Minho into his arms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Minho clutched at Chris’ shirt (what little there was of it; the man had a fondness for deep v-necks), grounding himself with the feeling of the fabric between his fingers. “Nothing,” he replied, “Nothing, I’m just being stupid. It’s all good, I promise.”  
  


“Kitten.” Chris’ tone was soft, something complimented by his hand running gently through Minho’s hair. “We literally just talked about this. You can be honest about how you’re feeling with me, yeah?”

Minho was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer. Finally, voice almost a whisper, he said, “I woke up and you were gone.”

“What?”

“I woke up and you were gone and that shouldn’t be a big deal but I started panicking for no reason and -” Minho cut himself off. “Sorry. Like I said, I’m just being stupid.”

Chris pressed a tender kiss to his forehead. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Minho wasn’t sure when they became this good at non-verbal communication, but somehow he was able to tell exactly what Chris was trying to tell him - that it was fine, that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was sorry for making him panic.

“Darling?” Chris asked, breaking the silence. “Can I kiss you?”

Minho laughed weakly. “You really have to ask?”

Chris kissed him then, sweetly, a little bit hesitantly, almost as if he was unsure of himself. “Darling,” he whispered against Minho’s lips, “can I show you how much I care about you?”

“Yes,” Minho said, voice soft and breathy. “Always.”

In an instant Minho was being pushed so that he was laying back, a heavy weight draping over top of him as Chris straddled his lap. Quickly he was swept up into another kiss, one that was different than any kiss they’d shared before. It overwhelmed him, somehow both sweeter and heavier than he’d known it was possible for a kiss to be. He arched up into Chris and reached desperately for something to hold onto, something to ground him and stop him from being swept away. His hands ended up tangled in Chris’ hair, drawing a low groan from the rockstar.

They kissed for what seemed like forever, both of them perfectly content to move at what was, compared to their normal sex life, a seemingly glacial pace. Finally, however, Minho could take it no more. “Chris,” he gasped, pulling away. Chris seemed to take that as an invitation, moving from Minho’s lips to kiss his neck, sucking a dark bruise in the divot where it joined with his shoulder. “Chris, please.”

“Please what, kitten?”

“You said you’d show me,” Minho replied. He pointedly rocked his hips upward, grinding his hard on onto Chris’. “Show me?”  
  


Chris hummed in response, then kissed up Minho’s neck and along his jawline before pressing one chaste kiss to his lips. “Take your clothes off for me, baby.”

As soon as Chris was off of him, Minho scrambled to sit up, frantically tugging his clothes off. He was so caught up in undressing himself that he didn’t even realize Chris was doing the same until he was done. 

They knelt across from each other on the bed, both naked, shivering a little under the cold air plane air. The way Chris was staring at him made Minho flush, averting his eyes. Chris reached out and gently took his chin in hand, tilting his head back up so they could make eye contact. “Beautiful,” he murmured, and Minho felt his cheeks grow impossibly hotter.

“Says you,” he replied shyly.

Chris laughed. “Cute. You’re so cute, kitten.”

His hand slid from Minho’s chin to his cheek, cradling his face softly. Minho couldn’t help but nuzzle into the touch. “Your kitten,” he said, smiling adoringly. 

Chris didn’t answer for a moment, staring at Minho with so much fondness in his eyes that it was almost overwhelming. Minho couldn’t believe he’d never seen this look on the older man’s face before. Had he really been _that_ blinded by his fears and insecurities? How was it even possible to miss how in love with him Chris appeared to be?

He leant forward to kiss him. There wasn’t really any intent behind it; it was simple and sweet, close-mouthed and chaste. When they separated, Chris smiled. “Yes,” he agreed. “All mine.”

Their lips met again, this time with more purpose. Minho moaned as Chris licked into his mouth, the rockstar’s free hand settling briefly on his hip before moving to skim over his stomach. Minho knew what his lover was doing; when they’d first started sleeping together, Minho had been incredibly insecure about his flat stomach versus Chris’ washboard abs. Although he’d never directly told the older man what he was feeling, he seemed to have picked up on it, always making sure to kiss and caress Minho’s stomach whenever it was exposed.

It had had an almost Pavlovian effect on Minho - he couldn’t really associate any feelings but pleasure with Chris touching his stomach.

He whined into the kiss. “Chris,” he panted, lungs desperately trying to suck in air before he kissed the rockstar again. “Chris, _please.”_

In answer, a rough, calloused hand trailed up his chest, thumbing over his heart and, subsequently, his nipple. Meanwhile, Minho’s hands found their way from where they were clutching at Chris’ biceps to tangle once again in his hair, He tugged lightly, relishing in the moan his lover let out, then tugged again, slightly harder this time. 

They continued like this for what seemed ages, locked in a game of push and pull. Everytime Chris touched his nipples, Minho pulled his hair. Everytime Chris groaned under Minho’s touch, he played with one of his nipples. The entire time they remained on their knees, too far apart for their hips to touch, their hands and lips the only contact between them.

Finally, Minho had had enough. He was always the first one to break when they played with each other like this. One day he hoped that Chris would be the first to lose himself to desperation, but he had his doubts that that would happen anytime soon.

After a particularly hard flick at his nipple, Minho caved with a high-pitched keen, the noise coming from the back of his throat. He pitched forward, his body crashing into Chris’, hips grinding up almost frantically onto Chris’ thigh.

“Woah, baby, _baby,”_ Chris said with a laugh, pushing him away lightly. “Not so fast, okay? We’ve got time.”

Minho pouted. “Want you _now.”_

“And you can have me. Just, let’s go a bit slower, yeah? No need to rush.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Minho’s eyes pleading, trying to crack Chris’ determination and speed things up. When it became clear he wasn’t going to win he sighed. “Fine,” Minho said. “Slow. If that’s what you want.”

“What _I_ want, “ Chris said, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, “is you.”

Minho laughed disbelievingly. “Cheesy fucker,” he muttered, pushing at his chest. “I’ve changed my mind, I’m gonna go find Changbin, he’d do a much better job of -”

Chris caught Minho by the wrist as he moved to pull his hand away, cutting him off with a searing kiss. “Don’t talk about anyone else,” he said quietly, almost dangerously. It sent a thrum of arousal through Minho and he did his best not to shiver. “Not when we’re like this.”

Minho nodded dumbly. Chris had never said anything like that before, even though Minho had teasingly threatened to leave him for someone else before. He didn’t know why Chris was suddenly so possessive, not if he’d thought that Minho understood his feelings the whole time.

Regardless of _why,_ though, it was definitely more than a little bit hot.

His hands, which had previously been resting on Chris’ chest, slid up to cradle his face. Sensing his intent, Chris leant forward and met him halfway, kissing him softly. Considering the fact that Minho could feel Chris’ cock twitch against his stomach everytime the rockstar’s hips twitched, it was a far sweeter kiss than it had any right to be.

It turned hotter, though, and before he knew it Chris’ hands were on his ass. Minho whined as Chris slid a teasing finger down, down, brushing ever so slightly over his hole. “Chris,” he begged. “Please, please don’t tease.”

Chris chuckled and kissed him once, twice, three times. “As my baby wishes,” he teased, reaching down to grab the lube where it was resting on the bedspread. He must have gotten it while they were undressing, although MInho couldn’t really remember.

Before Chris opened the bottle, however, he stopped to look questioningly at Minho. “Baby,” he said, hesitance to ask whatever he was thinking obvious, “what you said last night. About the condoms. Did you -”

“Yes.” Minho knew his answer even before Chris finished speaking. “I meant it. I… I may have thought we would only have that one last time together, but I meant it nonetheless. I want to feel you.” Before he could respond, Minho pulled Chris back in for as kiss. After a moment, he heard the click of a bottle cap as Chris poured lube on his hand, soon after whining at the feeling of a slick finger pressing against his hole. 

He wasn’t in need of any real stretching. He hadn’t needed to be properly stretched for a while, if he was being honest. He and Chris fucked almost daily - his ass never really had time to recover. Plus, he’d last had a dick in him less than twelve hours ago. Still, Chris took his time; he loved to watch Minho fall apart on his fingers.

“That’s it,” he murmured as Minho buried his head in Chris’ shoulder, muffling his cries as Chris twisted his fingers _just_ so. “That’s it, kitten, come on. Tell me how you feel.”

“I fe-feel,” Minho’s voice was breathy, and he was seemingly incapable of getting a single world out without moaning, “like I want your dick in my ass.”

Chris laughed, and twisted his fingers once more before pulling them out achingly slowly. “Turn around for me then, darling.”

Minho immediately did as requested, turning so he was on all fours, facing the door. Vaguely, very vaguely, he could make out the sound of the rest of the tour crew partying outside. It made something hot flare inside him - he wasn’t exactly quiet, and the thought that all of those people, their friends, could potentially hear just how good Chris made him feel was exhilarating.

Confusion flooded him when Chris pulled him upright. “What are you -”  
  


“Shh,” Chris said, kissing the back of his neck. “Do you trust me?”

Minho briefly flashed back to their first meeting, when Chris was astounded that Minho would place so much trust in him. That trust had only grown in the time since and it was the easiest thing in the world for the words to spill from Minho’s mouth. “Yes. Forever and always.”

Chris stilled behind him. For a moment, one brief, horrible moment, Minhot thought he had fucked everything up. _No,_ he reminded himself, _he said he loves you earlier. Or, as good as said it, anyway._

His fears were proved unfounded in the next second as Chris turned his head to sweep him into a kiss, regardless of the awkward angle, They parted and Minho couldn’t help but stare wonderingly, getting lost in Chris’ eyes, It was hard not to; they were blown dark and wide, enticingly drawing him in. “Chris,” he murmured quietly, trying not to break the stillness that had fallen upon them.

Chris kissed him then, soft and gentle. “I know,” he replied. One of his hands slipped from Minho’s waist and suddenly his dick was pressing at his hole. It slipped in and Minho threw his head back against Chris’ shoulder, lips parted with a silent cry.

Stretched as Minho was, and as eager as they both were, Chris bottomed out quickly, although he was large enough that it wasn’t an immediate thing. Time seemed to stop as Minho’s back was pulled flush against Chris’ chest, and he reached a hand back to clutch at Chris’ hair and ground himself.

A muscled arm wrapped around Minho’s stomach, another around his chest, before Chris slowly pulled out. His thrust back in was at an equally slow pace and Minho keened, his grip on Chris’ hair tightening. His other hand reached blindly behind him, grabbing onto Chris’ waist, trying futilely to pull him somehow, impossibly, closer.

No matter how many pleas and cries fell from Minho’s mouth, Chris’ pace didn’t alter, slow and deep and all-encompassing. Minho wasn’t sure how long either of them would last; despite the lack of their usual frantic desperation for each other, there was an energy in the air, something charged and powerful that swept them up and pushed them closer and closer to completion.

If last night had made Minho feel like he was loved in return, it was _nothing_ compared to this.

As Chris sucked bruise after bruise on Minho’s neck, marking him, _claiming_ him, for anyone and everyone to see, Minho felt something burst inside him. He couldn’t stop his eyes from welling up, nor could he stop the tears from overflowing and spilling down his cheeks.

Chris knew he was crying - how could he not, considering the low, hiccupping sobs that poured out of him whenever Chris thrust into him, brushing past that place inside that made his body flood with pleasure - but he was so used to Minho crying as he was fucked that he didn’t even pause. Instead, all he did was kiss up Minho’s neck to bite lightly at that one sensitive spot behind his ear. It only made Minho louder.

There was no way that the rest of the plane _couldn’t_ hear them, but Minho couldn’t bring himself to care. Let them. Let them hear how well Chris took care of him. He knew that not everyone who toured with them approved of Chris’ continued dalliance with him, for various reasons - he was too young, Chris was taking advantage, etc. No one had ever said anything to his face, but he knew, and he took a vindictive sort of pride in making them all hear him now.

“Not gonna - not gonna last much longer,” he admitted without shame. Based on the way that Chris was clearly struggling to hold himself back from fucking into him harder, neither of them were. “Feels so good, _Chris -”_

“Am I making you feel good, kitten? Am I going to make you come?”

Minho nodded frantically. “Yes, _yes,_ please, Chris, _please -”_ He twisted his head to face his lover and Christ took the hint, crashing their lips together as his hips began to speed up. Minho tugged at Chris’ hair, swallowing his low groan with relish.

“Really? You’re going to come? Without even being touched?”  
  


It was then that Minho registered that he had not, in fact, been touched this entire time. His entire body shook and he ground his hips back frantically. It was as though he’d suddenly remembered that he had a dick, and suddenly instead of focusing on the drag of Chris’ cock inside him, he became aware of how hard he was. His cock _throbbed,_ and for a moment he nearly relinquished his grip on Chris’ hip to reach down and take himself in hand.

He caught himself just in time. If he was going to come it was going to be from Chris fucking him, making him feel good. He was Chris, all of him, and he was going to prove it.

“Yes,” he gasped out. “Gonna come just from you, only you!”

Chris kissed him greedily, biting at his bottom lip. “Say my name, kitten. Say my name when you come.”

Minho threw his head back against with Chris’ shoulder with a loud cry. His eyes were closed, screwed shut as his entire body tensed with pleasure. “Chris,” his breathing was ragged. _“Chris!”_

Moving his hand on Minho’s chest to toy with one of his nipples, Chris shook his head. “No, baby. My _real_ name.”

That was all it took and with a loud moan Minho came all over the bed in front of them. “Chan!” His voice sounded broken, but the name he practically screamed was anything but unrecognizable. “Chan!” His back arched as he ground back against Chris’ dick, his vision practically whiting out as his entire body tensed.

He felt Chris stiffen behind him as he came, the rockstar moaning into his ear. “Minho,” he groaned as his hips stuttered erratically. “Minho, baby.”

The way Chris said his name sounded almost reverent. It was enough to make Minho twitch, his nearly-spent dick spurting forth one more tiny stream of cum. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing his name, not if it was said like that. 

As soon as they were both spent, Chris collapsed backwards. Minho followed, pulled along by Chris’ grip on his waist, and he found himself straddling Chris in reverse. He sagged backwards against the rockstar’s chest, hands dropping to cover Chris’ own where they rested on his body and head lolling back so that his nose was buried in Chris’ neck, in the place where it met his shoulder. Chris nuzzled at his hair, uncaring about how wet with sweat it had become.

“Thank you so much for coming to find me,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of Minhp’s head. “I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

Privately, Minho thought that _he_ was the lucky one in this relationship. The odds of him not only meeting Chris and getting to sleep with him, lose his virginity to him, but having his idol fall in love with him as well, were astronomically small. And yet, here he was. Here _they_ were.

He didn’t voice any of this, though. Not now, not when their confessions were still so new, the emotions between them still slightly raw, open wounds that healed slowly with each kiss and caress. No, now was not the time. There would be opportunities for that later.

Instead, he just smiled, tilting his head up just enough to brush his lips against the underside of Chris’ jawline in a fleeting semblance of a kiss.

“For as long as you want,” he said softly. “As long as you’ll have me. I’m yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh it's here!! part 2!! finally!!
> 
> this has been a crazy journey and I'm so glad you all have enjoyed it. I know I have!
> 
> let me know what you think by leaving kudos and comments! comments especially are nice because they keep me motivated to write more. 
> 
> also you can leave me a cc message, I love gettin those! you can find the link to my cc on my twitter. you can also follow me to get all sorts of spoilers for my other wips
> 
> twt: @seungchxn

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so beyond excited to share this with you guys you have no idea. i'm so happy with how this turned out and i can't wait to write the next two parts!!!
> 
> please leave me kudos and comments (especially comments, those are Very appreciated) because they motivate me to keep writing more
> 
> thank you to @woominchans for editing for me!!
> 
> come yell with me about minchan on twitter @seungchxn
> 
> EDIT: as of 6/6/2020, there is fan art!! check out [this beautiful drawing](https://twitter.com/nerysbelow/status/1269430188770758657?s=20) created by @nerysbelow on twitter!!


End file.
